


Leading the Blind

by MsLadySmith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLadySmith/pseuds/MsLadySmith
Summary: Inspired by the Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompt "Blind"





	Leading the Blind

It was a pleasant day, if a bit warm, when Mycroft decided he needed to clear his head. Ever-present umbrella in hand, he stepped out into the afternoon sun, took a deep breath, and started walking. He hadn’t had time for his morning run today, he reasoned, so this walk would suffice for his daily exercise.

He was just approaching Picadilly Circus when his vision started to blur and his head ached sharply. Thinking he was just a bit dehydrated, he stopped at a nearby shop and bought a bottle of water. He finished it quickly, but found his vision getting worse, not better.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Mycroft managed to dial the one number he knew by heart, the one number he doesn’t use speed dial for.

“Lestrade here,” came the gruff answer.

“Gregory, I –“

“Myc! What’s wrong? You don’t sound well.”

“I’ve gone for a walk…” His voice shook.

“Where are you, Myc?” Greg asked, already grabbing his coat and walking briskly toward the stairs. “I’ll come get you.”

“Picadilly Circus, near the Tube station” he said, looking around him. His vision had grown progressively worse – everything now blurred and dim – and the pain behind his eyes was excruciating.

Greg got into his car. “Stay right where you are. I will find you.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Greg stopped his car to see Mycroft Holmes, looking somewhat panicked and disheveled, standing near a newsstand. Greg walked up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Mycroft jumped.

“Myc, love, what’s going on?”

Mycroft relaxed. “I think you should take me to A&E, Greg… the pain is unbearable.”

“Migraine?”

“Worse.”

“All right, let’s go then,” Greg said, moving toward his car. Mycroft didn’t follow him. “Mycroft?”  
Mycroft looked up, but it was obvious he was not focused on Greg. “I can’t see, Greg.”

* * *

“Looks like optic neuritis.”

“Any idea what might have caused it?” Greg asked from his seat by Mycroft’s side. He was sleeping peacefully, having been given a dose of narcotics for the pain.  
  
“We’ve more tests to run to rule out some of the more serious causes, but hopefully, this will resolve itself, and his vision will return to normal within a couple weeks,” John said, looking over Mycroft’s chart. “Barring the more serious possibilities – brain tumor, multiple sclerosis, autoimmune disorders – it can just happen on its own. Heat and exercise often make it worse, too – you said he was out for a walk today when he called?”

“Yeah, but he’s a runner, he’s young, he’s fit... I wouldn’t expect going for a walk to cause him any harm.”

John shrugged. “You never know. Might have been that plus how unseasonably warm it is today.”

Greg shook his head. “How long does he need to stay?”

“At least until his pain is manageable. I can give him a prescription for pills then.”

* * *

Mycroft woke up a several hours later. The room was dark, but he could just make out a few shapes in the moonlight streaming through the window. Maybe my vision is returning, thank God. There was still a dull ache behind his eyes, though.

“How are you feeling?” came a quiet voice. Greg moved closer and took his hand gently.

“I’m still experiencing pain, but not as much. My vision has cleared a little.”

“John said it should clear up on its own, we hope. We’ll know more in the morning, I expect.”

“I hate hospitals. I want to go home.”

“Just like your brother. You’re probably stuck here for a couple days, though. Let John finish running whatever tests he needs to run.” Greg chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll find something to keep your mind busy in the meantime.”

* * *

The next day passed quickly. John was happy to report that there were no serious underlying causes for the optic neuritis, and that Mycroft could be released the following afternoon.

“Don’t push it, though,” John warned. “Since we don’t really know what caused it, I suggest taking it easy for a while.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Greg replied with a grin. Mycroft scowled, but nodded in agreement.

* * *

After getting Mycroft settled in the living room with a mug of tea and his favorite piano concerto playing on the stereo, Greg went into the home office to check in with Sally to ensure that things at the Yard would continue running smoothly in his absence.

Mycroft frowned as he overheard to Greg’s phone conversation with his sergeant. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know,” he grumbled when he heard the call end and Greg’s footsteps come back into the room.

“Not a babysitter. Just your husband,” he took a seat on the sofa next to Mycroft and put an arm around him. “For better or worse, sickness and health, remember?”

Mycroft’s frown started to turn to a smile. “You shouldn’t have to…”

Lips on his silenced him. “No arguing. Now, how about I read you the London Times?”

“I could get used to this, you taking care of me like this,” he leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

“And you should. Because I always will.”


End file.
